A short visit to New Orleans

We try to get to New Orleans at least every couple of years. Here are a few things I love about the Crescent City, in no particular order:

Glitz: feathers and sequins and fake fur look better here. Tonight’s lift driver, Dominique, picked us up after our dinner at N7, a trendy French restaurant in a rough neighborhood.. She drove a 2015 Mitsubishi Mirage with the steering wheel and both front seats wrapped in hot pink fur. It was too dark for a picture, but I admired it, quite sincerely. And the costumes on the parade bands! And even the beads hanging from the trees. It just would not work anywhere except New Orleans.

Street names: I walked from lunch at my favorite lunch spot, Cochon, on Tchopitoulas to the French Quarter. All of the streets change their names at Canal Street. Carondelet becomes Bourbon, St. Charles becomes Royal. Camp becomes Chartres (pronounced ‘Charters’) where I visited my favorite French Quarter shop, Wise Buys) and Magazine becomes Decatur.. “That’s because the Americans had to name their own streets in the American Sector, they could not use the French Quarter street names. The French and Spanish could live together, but they would not be forced to live with the Americans or the English. They wanted the division of Canal Street to be obvious.”

While riding in a Lyft back to a shop on Prytania, I saw the classically names streets: Calliope, Clio, Erato, Thalia, Melpomene, Terpsichore, Euterpe. While I”m not moving to NOLA anytime soon, I am rather envious of those addresses.

Restaurants including Cochon where I ordered my usual oyster and bacon sandwich. But especially restaurants that are not in the guidebooks: On Sunday we finally made it to Rosedale, owned by Susan Spicer, whose Bayona is on all the lists. We drove by Rosedale twice before we found it. But I had the best Bloody Mary ever.

Sunday evening we returned to Paladar, on Marigny Street, since we wanted to end up on Frenchmen Street for the music. The setting was elegant, the pasta was delicious, and we recognized the waitress from last year’s visit by her gorgeous tatoos.


Paladar

Quirky things that seem to make no sense. Why, on a block where bars and restaurants crowd up against hotels and massage joints, is there a Pharmacy Museum?

We didn’t get much music on this visit. Arriving on Sunday and leaving on Tuesday narrowed our options. On past visits we’ve enjoyed music in bars, restaurants, hotels, churches, and on the street.

Before we leave we’ll explore history with a visit to the Cabildo to learn more about the Baroness de Pontalba . A short visit, but I plan to return.

Something about that city…

I remember, when I was growing up, knowing old people who saved EVERYTHING. One uncle had a giant ball of foil, probably the wrapper from every stick of gum he had ever chewed. Someone else made a ball of rubber bands. Stacks of shoe boxes. Closets full of cottage cheese cartons. The explanation often was that after living through the Depression they would always anticipate scarcity. My grandmother died wearing an old nightgown, with drawers full of fancy lingerie she was saving in case she ever needed them.

I don’t have the excuse of living through the Depression. And I don’t anticipate scarcity. I don’t hoard (too much) useless stuff. I use the pretty glasses and I wear my best clothes. But I hate to waste anything.

Thats’ why we’re going to New Orleans next week. I couldn’t waste my Delta companion ticket by letting it expire! So we’ll arrive Friday morning at Louis Armstrong airport, pick up a car, and make our first stop at Cochon for an oyster and bacon sandwich, always my first meal (and often my last as well) when I visit the Big Easy.

Then we’ll travel upriver for two nights to visit a friend in Baton Rouge, my first time there. I’ve been promised boudin balls and mini crawfish pies on the edge of Cajun country, offset by grilled fish dinners and other somewhat lighter fare.

Back to NOLA on Sunday. We are planning to (over)fill two days with eating, drinking, music, golf (for John) and shopping (for me). A quick visit, but we’ll hit the highlights. There will be surprises; there are always surprises in New Orleans. I can’t wait!

“there was something about
that city, though
it didn’t let me feel guilty
that I had no feeling for the
things so many others
needed. it let me alone.” 
― Charles Bukowski

Approaching 2019, slowly…

Some years we party, and some years we stay home for New Years Eve. Tonight we’re staying in, but I have high hopes of being awake at midnight and kicking off the year I’ll turn 69.

Social media is full of fireworks tonight. The best fireworks I ever saw were in 2007 in Puebla, Mexico, at a Slow Food Congress. We’d just started our local chapter and I was incredibly lucky to be one of 600 delegates to the first international Slow Food event to be held outside of Italy.

The discussions were long and earnest, but there were plenty of breaks, during which generous trays of mezcal and pulque shots were passed, paired with freshly fried chicharrones and a (successful, I think) attempt to create the largest-ever gathering of mariachis . One meal featured an appetizer of fried grasshoppers. Another highlighted chiles en nogada.

After one day’s sessions, we boarded buses and were driven to a dark mountain outside of town (a volcano, I suppose). Eerie music helped build the anticipation. The moon was full. It was not hard to believe that the costumed figures which visited us were really ancient gods returning to help us celebrate. The highlight for me was being there with Alice Waters, although the closest I got to her was standing in line in the ladies’ room.

The sendoff on our last day was a giant snail, which turned out to be the launching pad for the aforementioned fireworks.

I learned a lot from Slow Food during the 10 years I helped lead our local chapter. One thing I learned was that it took a lot of work to keep the group together. I hope 2019 brings some new energy to Slow Food Maumee Valley.

Margaritas and the moon goddess…

Yes, I know it’s Christmas Eve. I’ve had a week of sunshine and relaxation in Mexico, where the toughest decision was pool or beach. Looking forward to celebrating with Ann Arbor family today, with ages ranging from 3 1/2 year old Aloisa to John’s 97-year old mother. All my children will be home with us for a couple of days later this week! The Christmas tree is lovely. I love the wreaths and the candles on the front of the house. Seeing the world, and especially the holidays, in the company of a three-year old is truly joyful. I am fortunate, and I am grateful.

Although it’s a little early, I’ve begun to think about what I want to do differently in 2019. I want to eliminate more clutter (progress is slow, but real). I want to cook more meat-free meals (love you, Rancho Gordo). I want to eat them more slowly, and more often with friends. I want to be thoughtful about giving, whether it’s money or time or energy. I want to support women.

While we were in Mexico we visited Isla Mujeres for a couple of days. We were there for the solstice and the full moon. We stayed center island near the port and ate at hole-in-the-wall places with big margaritas. The north end of the island was crazy busy with taxis, scooters, golf carts, endless shops, and people. We didn’t stop for all that, but away from that center, after a windy ride in our own rented cart, we found the women’s beading co-operative, where we bought gifts for ourselves, family and friends.h

But for me the best was Punta Sur, where we saw the remains of a temple to the Mayan goddess Ixchel. Modern sculptures have been installed and are rapidlly weathering in the heat and the winds. Countless visitors have been moved to pile stones or leave messages. It’s a magical place where somehow the mystique remains, and I am inspired.

Using both my hands…

Tonight was my last Pathway board meeting, and a chance to reflect on my first meeting, in January 2103.  It was horrendous.  So bad that the agency had hired security for the meeting.  After a discussion of ongoing problems, including threats to the long-term cash cow Head Start, we voted to fire the director. Board members, including the chair. claimed not to have seen the repeated warnings and extensive communications from the funder pointing out continuing deficiencies and threatening the loss of the grant.  As a new board member I wondered what I was getting into.  I wondered that a lot over the next several months, especially after Head Start was in fact lost, eliminating about 60% of agency revenue almost overnight.  Thanks to City and County support and financial commitment, we survived. 

Then at the end of that year I agreed to chair the board.  Board chairmanship became a part-time unpaid job for me. With great hope, we hired a new director, but within a year he left under a cloud.  We hired another new director.  For several years I worked with her to make connections externally and, internally, to create a culture focused on the mission and the “customers” (I’ve always preferred “clients”) and their ever-growing needs.  I got to know some of the younger board members and recruited my successor as board chair. Today the agency, according to its own self-assessment, is not yet thriving, but is safe or at least stable and improving. I’m pretty sure I helped.  I know I learned a lot.  I made new friends.  I have no regrets about the many hours I spent as a Pathway board member.  I have high hopes for the new board. 

I’ve occasionally been described as (accused of?) trying to save the world.  I’m not sure why that’s a problem, but in fact I only admit to trying to make the world a little better. I’ve already begun a new volunteer commitment.  I couldn’t look in the mirror if I didn’t accept some civic responsibility.  

As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands — one for helping yourself, the other for helping others.” — Audrey Hepburn

Just Another Manic Monday

Eat food.  Not too much.  Mostly plants.

I’ll probably never be a vegetarian, but I agree with Michael Pollan on this.  And I know that changing the way we eat could go a long way toward slowing down climate change.  So I’m pledging myself (and those I cook for) to Meatless Mondays. Here’s how I started:

It’s a winter panzanella with butternut squash, red onion, and old bread.  With a yoghurt tahini dressing and pomegranate seeds. I didn’t miss the meat.

I know, I know, Slow Food is elitist and Alice Waters doesn’t live in the real world.  I met her once, in the ladies room at a magical Slow Food conference in Puebla Mexico.  I have most of her cookbooks.  A trip to Northern California wouldn’t be complete without a visit to Chez Panisse.  I confess; I’m a fangirl.  Sometimes when I am considering a clothing purchase I ask myself if Alice would wear it.

Alice would definitely not be seen in what I wore today.  I took Aloisa to Fresh Market (she was disappointed that none of the frozen chicken strips were dinosaur-shaped, as are those her dad buys her at Kroger). Since it is Hanukah I had promised her gelt, but she spotted the chocolate Christmas bears too, and I couldn’t say no.  We followed that with a trip with a visit to Home Depot, since she wanted to ride in “the car carts” and we’re in the market for more mouse traps. Now that the weather limits outdoor play, we need to make our basement kid-friendly, including going to war with the rodents.

It’s a new month.  It’s a new week.  I’m still trying to make a difference.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thoughts while simmering soup…

When I started this blog and called it “Making it in Toledo” I was bored.  I’m not bored any more.  Who could be bored with a toddler in the house?  I’m also no longer channeling Lucinda Williams; who could fail to find joy with a three-year old around? Life has changed for the better.

 

There’s a cost.  I can no longer pretend that climate change will even largely spare those I love.  Both because the reality is becoming worse and because the life span of my loved ones has been extended.  I’ve admitted that we need to think (not quite ready to talk) about adapting to major change, because it’s too late to prevent it.  I think adapting will require that more of us do some things I’ve always like doing, like cooking from scratch, using all the parts, and eating seasonally (whatever seasons we may have).  (Hence this vegetable soup with beets and carrots and fennel and bone broth).

I’m wrapping up one major volunteer commitment (Pathway) and ramping up another (Reinvest Toledo) and trying to balance my continuing need to be engaged (and FOMO) with the increasing ease of staying at home.  Sometimes I can do both by gathering people at home with me.

Hoping to sit down with my computer more often and share thoughts here…. Hoping for comments…

 

 

Okay, I’m no Marie Kondo

A few years ago a friend shared a rule he had adopted:  he would only buy something if he also discarded something.  After 38 years in one place, it’s a bit late for me to take that approach.  I’m not quite ready for the Swedish death cleaning sweep, but probably my ration of add to subtract should be more like 1:10.  Here’s one thing I discarded yesterday:

I also have an (unopened) bottle of Manishewitz which perhaps will serve as today’s drain opener.  We used to keep these bottles to serve to John’s grandmother, who died more than two decades ago.  Yes, I have a hard time letting go.  I always assume that someone will want it and somehow that assumption overweighs the irritation of being overwhelmed with stuff.

Here’s what I added:

one of the five figs that constitute the 2018 crop

and

Shishito peppers from the farmers market, blistered in my favorite Staub pan

Since both have already been consumed, I’m making progress.

The Gentle Art of Using Old Things

I’ve always loved old things.  These old glasses give me joy whenever I use them and no matter what they hold. Last night John and I closed out the weekend with Manhattans from cherry-pit infused bourbon.  It’s so satisfying to find delicious uses for something that would otherwise be wasted.

The trick is to distinguish between old-but-worth-saving and time-to-throw-it-out.  My most recent stack of library books includes “The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning, and today I hope to be inspired by it to clear some clutter.

I don’t think I’ll be clearing any old cocktail glasses, though.

 

Solstice Musings

It’s summer.  Having made it through a brief but brutal hot spell and having survived poison ivy with the help of herbal remedies (jewelweed soap and tecnu gel) from a great local hardware store, I think I’m ready for some fun now.

We’ve lived in our house since 1980, but until this year haven’t used the lovely old brick fireplace at the back of our property.  Johanna recognized its potential, worked hard to clean it up, and proposes to gain the skills needed to repair it.  We celebrated Aloisa’s birthday eve with S’mores around the campfire, and it was magical. Since Loi loves hot dogs I look forward to using it again.

After too many years of letting nature (and vinca vine) take over, I’ve re-claimed the space around  the fish pond our kids dug when they were teenagers.  Creeping thyme will fill in without being invasive, and the new brass frog adds just the right sound effect. The pond is right under our bedroom windows, and I love hearing it before I fall asleep.

Before June ends, John and I are heading out on a week-long road trip.  We’ll start off attending a wedding at a farm in New Jersey and then spend a couple of days in Connecticut with my sister. We’ll explore Hudson, New York for the first time and re-visit Ithaca fifty years after we first arrived as Cornell freshmen.  We hope to visit one or two of the wineries that have proliferated in the Finger Lakes since out college days there.  A classic summer escape, and I can’t wait!

Of course, summer will also include some politics and a fundraiser.  We’ll be hosting Zack Space, candidate for Ohio Auditor, at the end of July. The Auditor will have a voice in re-districting and the opportunity to help re-build trust by strategic use of the investigatory power of the office.  Space’s dad, Socrates Space, was chair of the Tuscarawas County Democratic Party, and I’m glad to have the opportunity to help.

August is wide open, but I have high hopes.